


blood of the oracle

by jade304



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade304/pseuds/jade304
Summary: The blood that splattered his face and clothes as he held her wasn’t red. She was not telling him the truth.They wanted nothing but took everything.They abandoned him.(In which Ravus fails spectacularly.)





	blood of the oracle

He was only ten, Lunafreya even younger still, the first time he remembered their mother falling ill. They’d traveled outside the capital to a small rural village in the northern reaches of Tenebrae; a lengthier excursion that the oldest Nox Fleuret son would not typically accompany his mother on, but he was adamant that they bring him. He’d gone on smaller trips to watch his mother heal the people, and he was surely old enough now to come along for a longer journey. And so, Gentiana remained behind with the six-year-old Lunafreya as Ravus and his mother set off.

To be the first Prince Fleuret in generations marked Ravus as an oddity; as the kings of Lucis had their sons, so did the oracles and queens of Tenebrae in turn have their daughters. He would also become the exception to the typical line of succession; it would be Lunafreya who would take the role as Queen with her mother’s passing, and Ravus the unprecedented prince.

Despite his mother’s reassurances, he still felt eyes on him when they traveled through the countryside. Arriving in the small town, he was greeted with both joy and confusion by the people, who had likely anticipated the future oracle’s presence. He followed behind Sylva a few paces as they walked along through the town hall, the mayor of the small village speaking loudly overtop of them.

It was the mayor’s daughter that they came here for; a girl probably not a day older than him, sitting bundled up in a chair in the mayor’s office. There were a few others in town, but she would be the first on their tour and the one with the least advanced case.

Sylva took the girls hands as she always did, murmuring in low tones words of encouragement as she began her healing. Ravus, the mayor, and the attendants all stood close by the door and waited. The girl stared up at them, not paying attention to the oracle performing her magic over her.

The girl suddenly jolted like she was shocked, and Sylva paused. The green light illuminating her palms suddenly dissipated, though the girl’s black markings still faded away.

“Are you okay?” The girl asked, shrugging off her layers of blankets to reach out for her.

The attendants stood suddenly more rigid, and both Ravus and the mayor looked at them with alarm. Sylvan shook her head, squeezing the girls hands, though her own were now shaking.

“I’ll be all right, dear. Will you give me a moment?”

She made a somewhat hurried dash to the door, the attendants rushing out after her. The bewildered mayor moved for his daughter, but a dull thud from outside drew Ravus out the door.

“Are you…mother?”

Sylva sat crouched to her knees on the floor, hunched over with either attendant at her side, holding onto her back to keep her steady. Ravus could see the dark stain already seeping into her dress’s fabric, and he trembled.

“Mother!”

“Ravus…”

She shook off the attendant, who backed away with a measure of reluctance. Sylva turned to her son; her lips were slightly blue, and though she’d attempted to clean her mouth, a smudge of purple still smeared along the edge of her lips. The darker stains saturated the lap of her dress, glistening and still wet.

“Ravus, love, I’m all right.”

She smiled shakily at him, but he’d already seen her. Sylva grasped at his hand, the sticky sleeve of her dress barely brushing his hands. The attendants tentatively brought her to her feet, and they left the town hall to return to the inn they’d been provided.

He stayed at the inn as she went to see the other people the next morning.

 

 

 

“Are you sure you can help Prince Noctis?”

It had been six years since Ravus accompanied his mother on their tour, and he hadn’t followed her since. Lunafreya was old enough to come along with her now, and the young girl was more inclined to helping rather than being a mere observer. Though he had not heard of incidents since, and Lunafreya never told her older brother of any of them, the memory of her tainted blood dripping down her front still haunted him.

There was no precedent for Noctis’s condition; the Marilith attack had severely injured his back, though it was not the injury that had sent Noctis into a coma for several weeks. When the prince had awoken, Regis had told them, he’d been excitedly telling his father about the Carbuncle and fighting an Iron Giant like the ones in his father’s stories. Though Regis had entertained Noctis’s dreams, they traveled to Tenebrae for the oracle’s help for suspicion that Noctis had been infected by the starscourge, and given these strange dreams.

“His Majesty told me there’s no external signs of him having the scourge,” Sylva said, “though I know they likely have no reference for it behind the wall in Lucis. Still, it wouldn’t be amiss to heal him anyway; if nothing else we may be able to speed up his physical recovery.”

Even as a minor case, Ravus still felt the alarm sirens wailing in the back of his head. The girl years ago had also been a minor case, and likely no worse off than Prince Noctis.

Reading his worried expression, Sylva sighed, a small smile on her face. “I’m well, Ravus. That was the worst bout of illness I’ve ever had out of it, and none since.”

“Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, dear.”

He wanted to believe her; her complexion that day was warm, her appearance bright and in its normal groomed state, a far cry from her pale and disheveled face from that day. Still, the memory prodded at the back of his head. If that was a routine healing, and they weren’t even sure of Noctis’s condition..?

“I see you’ve already been speaking to him, anyway,” Sylva said, gesturing to Ravus’s head with a grin. “They’ve been giving people those crowns all morning.”

 

 

 

“Ravus!”

He turned in the hallway; Lunafreya and Prince Nocits hurried down the hall, both looking to be on a mission.

“Close your eyes!” She called. “And don’t look!”

He did as she said, hearing the pair of them come up to him.

“You’ll have to lean over a bit,” Lunafreya said, tugging at his arm. He complied, leaning over. She kept her grip on him while he felt a second pair of hands plant something on his head.

Lunafreya released him and he opened his eyes. Noctis looked extremely nervous to be talking to her older brother, but the girl was beaming; he reached up to feel what they’d placed on him, and his hands brushed the familiar petals of sylleblossoms. Noctis had a whole pile of flower crowns in his lap, and Lunafreya kept even more looped around her arms.

“We’re going to get Mother and then King Regis next,” She explained. Ravus was still holding the crown silently.

“Do you like it?” Noctis asked – he sounded extremely intimidated. Ravus smiled at him.

“I think it’s wonderful, Noctis,” He said. The boy looked confused, but he lit up when he realized that Ravus had called him by his name before his title.

“Okay!” He said, much more bright and animated than before. “Is Queen Sylva around?”

“I’ll let her know you want to see her,” He said. “I was on my way to speak with her now.”

 

 

 

Smoke clogged his lungs and made his eyes water as he ran.

Lunafreya’s face burned into his eyelids; her expression of fear and sadness as King Regis grabbed her, carried her along, as he was left behind to lurch over their mother’s lifeless body.

_The blood that splattered his face and clothes as he held her wasn’t red. She was not telling him the truth._

The soldiers took off in pursuit of the king; they had come for them, after all. They wanted nothing from Tenebrae but the king tied to the crystal.

_They wanted nothing but took everything._

The silence was overwhelming, worse than the thick smoke, more pressing than his damp clothing, more painful than his injured arm; he wasn’t even sure he ran in the right direction. He wasn’t even sure the king and Lunafreya would still be there.

_They abandoned him._

He saw her, her dress clean of ash and soot, standing frozen as she watched the Niflheim soldiers flee, running back to their true target.

“Lunafreya!” He cried; his throat was thick with smoke and it came out a hoarse whisper. She didn’t turn, and he tried again: _“Lunafreya!”_

His vocal chords stinging under the strain and smoke, his mouth burning, but she finally turned. She stood frozen as he finally caught her and held her tightly in his shaking arms.

“Luna…freya…Luna…”

He fell to his knees to meet her height and buried his face in her shoulder, heaving trembling sobs at last. Blood seeped from his coat into her dress; she did not move to comfort him, standing still as he clung to her and cried.

The forest burned around them, but he could not bear to move.

 

 

 

 

Thus, the empire moved into the manor, disrupting the daily flow of life and throwing off the atmosphere. Most of the surviving manor staff were uncertain how to proceed with their presence there. It seemed that, despite the empire’s attempts being focused primarily towards Lucis, they did not find it amiss to finally occupy the Fenestala Manor at last.

Though others of the staff – notably Maria, who’d lived at the manor longer than Ravus had been alive – returned to their duties, the children were without their primary companion; it was Gentiana who had remained with them when they were younger, and she had gone missing in the fire.

To take her place, the empire sent Caligo Ulldor.

In place of their mother and Gentiana, Ulldor primarily focused on making sure that the pair of them did not fall off the bridges and not much else besides. It was Ravus left as his sister’s caretaker; he was teetering on seventeen, and Lunafreya was much younger at only twelve. The girl remained silent and isolated for a while after the attack on the manor; though Ravus tried to pry any sort of reaction at all from her, she resisted both him and General Ulldor’s (feeble, on the latter’s part) attempts to pry her back out.

The future oracle remained cold, and the manor froze to reflect it.

Without an oracle, without their mother, the daily life of the palace and grounds stood at a standstill. Uncertain of where to proceed, uncertain of where to begin to look, both of the Nox Fleuret siblings were caught in a web of structureless days. Ravus, bitter at the soldiers patrolling the grounds and more at the king who had abandoned them; Lunafreya, who stared through them all as if they weren’t even there, as if they were mere figments of her imagination.

As if the fires never burned, as if the blood was never spilled.

Ravus thought of scrubbing blood out of his hands, of the smell of smoke still permeating the halls, of that day and Lunafreya’s silence. He shouldn’t have let Regis take her away – he should have ran after her. Their mother was dead for the king’s mistake, and Ravus could only sit helpless and watch her go. He couldn’t protect her then, but he had to now. She remained listless and mute for nearly a month before he finally had enough and stormed into the general’s temporary quarters.

“Does Niflheim require soldiers?”

The general looked up from his desk; Ravus had slammed the door open, one arm still resting on it. He gave the boy a once over and said slowly, “Not children like yourself.”

“I’m near seventeen,” Ravus countered. “Please.”

Ulldor set his work down and stood, walking over to stand in front of Ravus. He towered over the thin teen in bulk and height. “Nowhere close to being a man,” He said, and clasped Ravus on the shoulder. The boy grimaced as the gesture knocked him slightly off balance. Ulldor smirked.

“From the way you cower before your frail sister, I doubt we would have use for you anyway.”

He released him from his grip, and Ravus stumbled again. “Please, I can –“

“You can what?” Ulldor asked, volume rising. “Go outside and give the other soldiers food and drink? Offer to be a walking weapons stand? Could you even lift a sword, much less heavy Magitek weaponry?”

“I-“

“You want so badly to protect your sister, but the oracle is _lost._ Clearly out of her mind with grief, and you throwing around a big boy sword won’t bring her back.”

He refused to cry in front of the general, but he felt it coming. More damning yet, he knew that Ulldor could see it even if his eyes did not water.

“Pitiful,” Ulldor sneered. “You can see yourself out, before I have those _soldiers_ you idolize escort you.”

 

 

 

He didn’t know where Lunafreya even _found_ a pair of dogs, much less two puppies.

“I’m keeping them,” She told Ravus, and her smile was the brightest he had seen it in months that he could not tell her no. Yet…

“Lunafreya, the general –“

“General Ulldor will be fine with it,” She said. The black pup jumped up excitedly to lick her nose, and she laughed. The sound stung his heart, so long lost and now returned with these two dogs. “I asked everyone else in the manor and they were excited to see them. He’s in charge here, but he wouldn’t throw them out just because they’re mine.”

He looked at the slowly-yellowing bruises around her wrists, the small scrape on her cheek. Ulldor would not touch her or the dogs, because he already had. Similar bruises along his own body echoed, pains more fresh than her own; he’d been easily thrown aside, but Ulldor had not touched her since. He did not know what she’d told him, what she meant, only that she responded with a small, _He didn’t take that news very well._

The cream dog padded over to him, licked his fingertips. He jerked his hand away, and it whined sadly.

“Stay in your room for today with them, at least,” Ravus said. “Let them out the back door if you need to.”

He left without any other word, closing the door shut behind him. His hands trembled.

Thinking again, he turned around and locked it behind him.

 

 

Gentiana returned nearly a year after the fire.

Lunafreya was overjoyed to see her return, the puppies barking at her ankles before the future oracle’s arrival as she strode into the manor without a single word of acknowledgement.

They’d learned of the Glacian’s destruction only later, after Gentiana herself had settled back into her spot in the manor, after Lunafreya explained to Ravus that she was a _messenger,_ a word mystical and exciting to her but ominous and foreign to him. He hadn’t thought about his disconnect from the oracles in years, and here it came again. The lone son of Tenebrae, pressed further away even moreso now from the oracles, from his sister, who’d only just recently come back around to them.

 

 

On Lunafreya’s sixteenth birthday, she was at last marked as the oracle – the youngest in history.

On Ravus’s twentieth birthday, he formally enlisted in Niflheim’s military.

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

“Ah, the prince Ravus Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae, and a soldier of our great empire! A pleasure indeed, your Highness.”

The man’s bow was far too deep. Ravus knew it was a mockery: twenty-four years old and ascending quickly through the military’s ranks, he felt the misplaced prince no longer. His blood carried him through Niflheim with snorts of disdain, but his found skill with swordsmanship and his obedient yet authoritative demeanor served him more than his own birth. It did not fly over most people’s heads, of course – though the human half of Nilfheim’s forces held men, women, and soldiers of all backgrounds, heralding from the oracle’s bloodline still made him stand out from the rest of them.

He’d been assigned as the chancellor’s guard for a diplomatic visit; the man would be traveling around Niflheim, stopping at the different magitek production facilities on behalf of the emperor. Ravus would be the lone human soldier (along with several machine MTs) accompanying him. He never met the man before that moment in time, only hear of him by word of mouth, and he felt immediately like he’d stepped in something unpleasant.

For a chancellor, a man of high political standing, he certainly didn’t present himself as such: his hair was clean, but appeared as if it had never once been brushed. He wore several thick layers beneath a flowing overcoat, two separate scarves, and his bottoms looked as if they were pulled from a pajama set. Tucked into boots that sounded as if they had dance shoe taps on the bottom, he was quite a character. A character bowed deeply before Ravus, using his full formal title that he had not worn for years.

“The formality is unnecessary, chancellor,” Ravus said. The man straightened up, smiled at him. He _definitely_ stepped in something unpleasant.

“Imperial Chancellor Ardyn Izunia. Since we’re going to be mostly on our lonesome this long trip, please, call me Ardyn.”

“…Ardyn, then.”

“Ah, the young man catches on quickly! The last poor soul called me Chancellor Izunia the _entire_ time. It was such a lonely journey.”

Even as they traveled on, the man’s attitude towards Ravus did not seem to shift into the usual detached professionalism he expected. At each facility stop, he opted to walk casually beside him, leaving the rest of the automated MTs to follow behind him. Ravus was glad for the standard armor covering his face, because it offered him some degree of separation; of course, he was no automaton like the ones following them and the ones throughout these bases, but the cold metal mask still branded him as one of their number, and such he was able to mostly ignore the chancellor’s incessant chattering.

The chancellor’s demeanor aside, the mission itself was one of great significance; the magitek production facilities were one of the most heavily guarded outposts of the empire, with only a few lone souls permitted inside. The process for selecting guards for officials on these missions was rigid and followed the strictest of guidelines, though the human soldiers themselves were never permitted to step foot inside the laboratories proper. Ravus would stand guard outside the door as the chancellor entered the labs, waiting for him to return. It was beyond his post to know what went on at these facilities, and he never even thought to ask. His only task was automated, hand grasped on his weapon, waiting for Ardyn to emerge from the darker recesses of the facility.

The chancellor looked energetic as he left each one in turn; Ravus knew only that the man was a prime source of funding as well as information and general support for the MT project, but this tour was meant to be more important than the last few. Some new magitek prototypes, no doubt, but Ravus remained on standby and in the dark of the details.

“You could say _something_ to make this a bit livelier,” Ardyn pouted as they finished up at yet another base. “You’re just like the other ones after all.”

 

 

 

The tour with Ardyn Izunia ended up being his last posting in Niflheim proper for two years; soon upon his return, Ulldor informed him that he would be returning to Tenebrae to keep tabs on the oracle and the manor.

“The chancellor recommended you personally for this, after your…” The general shuffled for the document in question. “’Stellar, gold star performance.’”

Ulldor grinned as he told him this; Ravus’s face remained blank. His reactions to this man had been stomped out long ago, even to small belittling remarks like these, and the general did not hold such weight over his head as he once may have.

He departed alone for Fenestala Manor the next morning, significantly less collected than he had been the night before.

He hadn’t seen Lunafreya in person in four years. Though Tenebrae, especially the royal family, typically did not use modern technology beyond necessities, any electronic communication in or out of the country was firmly banned save for military use. He wrote to her often, though he wasn’t sure if all of the letters arrived in Tenebrae, or even made it out of Niflheim; she’d only responded to a few of them. He didn’t know if this was her own choosing to ignore them, or if any post to her was now being screened and his own post had no way of coming through.

The feeling washing over him as the spiraling towers of the manor came into view was indescribable; though Niflheim was a great nation on its own means, it was strictly organized and automated. He’d missed the _green,_ the warm temperatures (Niflheim had been experiencing a sudden shift into a permanent cold climate in contrast to its once desert heat), the almost fantasy-like architecture. The crew of the ship continued their controls without attention to him as he stood and stared out the window at it all.

He punched down the feeling the closer they got to their drop-off point, a small field a ways away from the train station nearest to the manor. Ravus was to report to the magitek outpost set up on the outskirts of the grounds before arriving to the house itself; though he was scheduled to report, there was no human being to actually report to. He would become the person in charge of overseeing the manor guard.

The magitek nodded to his instruction as they always did; they held their own degree of self awareness, of individual thought, though they were programmed to act automatically on a command of ones and zeroes. Glorified robots, Ravus assumed them to be. They gave him a salute as they left, returning to their regulated patrols until he ordered them otherwise.

To be in charge of a group of mechanical men was an odd feeling.

He began the walk to the house, dressed in full armor sans his helmet. His look was atypical of the normal wear that a captain would be afforded; it resembled heavily the appearance of the Brigadier Generals, but with a black and white color scheme. The normally red banner on his shoulder guard was a deep royal purple, the armor silver and black rather than gold. The swapped color palette marked him as an overseer in Tenebrae; the general design, however, could not be traded from its roots and marked him as decidedly Niflheim.

He entered without so much as knocking. They knew a replacement overseer was coming, though they did not yet know it was him. Anyone else would not have announced their presence, either: Niflheim retained its iron stronghold, and came and went as it pleased.

He remembered that from his teenage years, and here he was doing the same.

“Lord Ravus?”

The voice was soft from behind him. He turned; it was Maria, the old woman who had remained behind from the fire.

“Ah, I thought it was you! What a fine young man you’ve grown into… Shall I go find Lady Lunafreya for you?”

“I can find her myself,” Ravus said. As an afterthought, he added, “Thank you.”

Maria nodded. “I understand. But…please, if you need anything while you’re here, you need only ask. We all still remember you.”

The familiarity was uncomfortable. He shrugged. “Again, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

He turned to leave her. It felt strange that he was here on the ground now; it had been too long in the isolation of Gralea, of Niflheim, that he felt detached and strange in what used to be his own home. He felt more comfort in the suit of armor on his back, the sword at his hip, than in the familiar sights and sounds of the Fenestala Manor.

The trip to Lunafreya’s quarters was brief, and he knocked firmly.

He heard the dogs barking from inside – _of course –_ and Lunafreya telling them to hush as the sound of her feet clicked towards the door.

She unlocked it, and Ravus finally got the first glimpse of his sister in four years.

She’d grown much taller, probably around the height he would have been when he was sixteen – he now towered over her, and was sure he would even if he were not wearing boots. She was dressed in the all-white casual dress he associated with their mother, the wear donned by all the other oracles. Her hair was loosely curled, falling out of its bun to fly around her face. She looked slightly confused to see him.

“I didn’t know they would be sending you.”

She put emphasis on _you,_ an edge of something that he didn’t know how to identify.

“It was a sudden appointment,” He said. “I was informed of it only last night.”

Lunafreya nodded, then stepped to the side to let him in. “Come in.”

She eyed him warily as he stepped inside; her gaze focused on the banner attached to his armor.

The room had changed little since he’d last stepped foot in it; her desk had been pulled to the center of the room, a number of letters strewn across its surface. He walked over and looked them over: a red notebook sat atop a stack of books as a makeshift paperweight, a feathered pen sticking out its side. He could see a messy scrawl somewhere inside – some else’s hand? The letters on the desk were all addressed to her – each one of them were requests for the oracle’s assistance. The one she had on top of the pile was from a town not a half hour from the manor.

“Did they send you to come creeping through my things, now?”

Her tone made him turn. She looked mildly annoyed, still staring at the purple banner of his armor.

“Mere curiosity,” He said. She pushed roughly past him, taking her seat at the desk. She began straightening up the papers, pulling the pen from the notebook and closing it. “A book from someone?”

“A friend,” She said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s my duty to know who you’re communicating with, as Niflheim commands that I –“

“I’m sure Niflheim would love to hear all about it,” She said quietly. “Is that all you came to ask for?”

Her demeanor was confusing him. Did she not wish to speak with him…?

“Lunafreya, I assure you that if it’s of a personal manner I need only report the names and contact of the person. Screening has been standard for quite some years now, and as such –“

“I see that it _is_ all you asked for,” she said. “In that case, you’re free to go.”

He paused. Sighed.

“Very well. I’m sure you’ve been informed of the new guard rotation?”

“Yes.”

“They’ll be by momentarily; let them in if they request it.”

She had returned her attention to her desk and did not respond, only nodded. Accepting the affirmation, Ravus turned to leave.

He noticed the dogs sitting on either side of the door as he left; they’d been watching him the entire time.

 

 

 

He opted to ignore his own rooms in the manor, left vacant in his absence, in favor of taking the room and office that Ulldor once had. The space would be more beneficial for his needs as the guard captain there, anyway, and it put him at a bit of a distance from Lunafreya’s quarters.

He would, of course, need to stop by to visit her daily eventually; as the guard captain, he would be in charge of screening most of the communications sent to her as the oracle. A few waiting for him before his arrival were already waiting to be sent over after his approval; all standard requests, pleas for the oracle to visit and help their sick, a general blessing, to attend a prayer service. Lunafreya, it seemed, was much busier than their own mother had been; there were far more cases of the starscourge lately, more voices demanding the oracle’s healing.

As he waved them all into the accepted pile, he wondered again about the notebook. If it was sent back and forth, it would likely cross his desk anyway. There were scant few personal messages in the pile; they were all entirely addressed to Lunafreya as the oracle.

He still didn’t know what became of his own messages to her; whether they had been forwarded to her or rejected. Now that he was here in her presence, there was no need to pen letters, and thus he would never figure out.

He marked the letters (all of them passed the acceptability bar) into the pile, and turned in for the evening.

 

 

 

The guards that walked the hallways past Lunafreya’s room ran nearly round-the-clock, save for a few hours midday when local residents would be permitted into her quarters to speak with her personally. In these instances, the MTs would stand back several paces in the hallway, allowing the guests their space yet still imposing their presence. Ravus would have preferred they follow into the audiences as well, but Lunafreya told him that it was her lone rule, the one that the previous captain had permitted her.

“They’ve already enough to fear,” She told him. “I won’t let them be intimidated as well.”

So the flow of visitors to her rooms went in the afternoons, people with both mild cases of the scourge as well as those with other minor injuries, as well as a surprising amount of people who came for only a few minutes simply to _speak_ with her. It was very new to him; his mother did see people to the manor on occasion, but typically in the downstairs hall, or outside in the gardens. Lunafreya’s visitors were welcomed warmly into her sitting room, left into her own personal sphere. She was warm and giving to each of them their own time with her, so much that she had to give, and he could not understand _why._

He worked mostly independent of her, focusing mainly on the MTs and on correspondence from Niflheim; he rarely saw her in person since arriving. Ulldor, as well as General Glauca now, were both sending him letters with increasing urgency. They were, it seemed, beginning to prepare something in anticipation of turning the tide against Lucis.

He hadn’t thought of King Regis in years; he was never assigned to. He knew most of the human soldiers were tasked with keeping tabs on overseas movements in Lucis, in bases scattered across the Lucian regions of Cleigne and Liede, but he never once stepped foot on Lucian soil. They kept the former Tenebraen prince on a short leash, leaving him in and around Gralea for four years.

His only associations with Lucis were the fire, the destruction, the king abandoning them. He hadn’t thought to stir up the old grudge in years, but old wounds stung as he read many of the correspondences.

_The movements in Liede have been especially useful as of late, utilizing combat data acquired from…_

_Testing has begun in the outer reaches of Cavaugh, though we’ve plans to utilize the space closer to the Wall…_

_Remnants from, as well as personal accounts, from the year nearly thirty years ago have provided us…_

Gears, shifting towards Lucis, as Ravus remained behind in Tenebrae as guard. He gave his input on each, sending them back off as soon as he was able. The war was shifting; the armies of Lucis were now bolstered by the Kingsglaive, formed in the wake of the manor attack. More guards for the king to deploy at his own convenience.

 _Hiding behind his wall, protecting only his own, leaving others to scramble behind in his dust._  

Reports from Insomnia were also shifting; though King Regis was still popular by many in the city, General Glauca noted in one memo, there were shifting attitudes in particularly poor areas of the city, even a bitterness to be found inside the king’s own ranks.

As Lunafreya welcomed others warmly into her quarters for healing and prayer, he remained alone, head swimming with only his captain’s role and the talk of Lucis.

 

 

 

“Lunafreya, another letter arrived for you this morning.”

She looked up from her desk, pen paused mid-sentence; she didn’t look upset, only surprised to see Ravus delivering her mail in person rather than a butler.

“Oh. Thank you, Ravus.”

He walked over to place the letters on her desk, then turned to leave. A quick in-and-out routine, standard interaction with the oracle.

“Ravus? Why don’t you sit in here for a while.”

The request caught him off guard, and he froze midway to the door. The sleeping dogs stirred, blinking lazily at him as they awoke. Pryna (he’d come to learn both her and Umbra’s names since returning) walked over to him and booped her nose against his thigh – he wasn’t wearing his full armor today, only the long white undercoat.

“Very well,” He said. He walked over to the settee near her desk, one that her many guests usually found themselves comfortable in. He sank down into the plushy cushion a little as he sat. Pryna walked over and hopped up on his lap, immediately demanding head pats. Umbra remained at his mistress’s side as she finished off her writing.

She joined him afterwards, settling into the armchair beside him. Still a distance, but he assumed it was her familiar positioning with company.

“What is it you wished to discuss?” Ravus asked.

Lunafreya shrugged. “Do I need something important to discuss when I just want to speak to my own brother?”

“I…suppose not.”

Pryna hopped off his lap to come nuzzle up by her feet. Ravus turned to look at the desk; Umbra had disappeared. “Where’s Umbra gone off to?”

“He comes and goes,” Lunafreya said simply. “I leave the garden door open for them.”

His mind quickly ran down the checklist of posts outside that door, but Lunafreya sighed. “Ravus, it’s all right. Forget about your precious guards for a moment.”

The ninth station walked around the outer perimeter of the garden, he thought, but still he nodded at her. “Sorry. I worry only for your safety.”

Lunafreya shrugged. “At least you don’t lock me in my room anymore.”

Ravus shifted a bit uncomfortably. “It was only for a time years ago, before the regular guard posts opened. You’re free to come and go as you please now.”

“I can assure you that Ulldor did not throw me to the ground more than the once.”

“The general is a changed man since,” Ravus said, though his throat felt fuzzy at her words spoken so matter-of-factly. “But this is not his concern. Our orders here – and more than that, my hope as your older brother – is to keep you and the household safe and protected.”

“I’m perfectly safe here,” Lunafreya said. “Gentiana, Umbra, and Pryna are around often, and the people wish me no harm.”

“Perhaps,” Ravus said. “Still, I’d rather not see you fall to harm while I’m here.”

“I’ll be okay, Ravus.”

They lapsed back into silence, Ravus’s eyes darting around the room for something to look at. Her sitting room was decorated with more flowers than remembered; a few of them sylleblossoms, but many more of a wider variety; gifts, all presumably from her visitors. One of the pots of flowers closer to the ground looked rather chewed up; he nearly cracked a smile at it.

“I’ve just been writing today,” She said. “There are no plans until I visit the eastern woodlands next week.”

“Hm,” Ravus said. She would be accompanied by her oracle’s attendants as well as MTs that week; he would remain behind as normal. “What sort of things are you writing lately?”

“Oh, short little things. For fun. I’ve been making some comedic ones as of late.”

“What about?”

She cracked a smile, one far more genuine than he’d been seeing from her. “Well, I know I’ve been getting lots of pictures of Gladiolus lately – Clarus Amicitia’s son, we’ve only met his father – and I’ve been told he’s a bit of an ass sometimes, so I wrote Noctis some stories alongside his own cell phone pictures, mostly about how he – “

“Noctis?”

Ravus’s tone was suddenly hard and cold, and Lunafreya’s face fell slightly.

“I – yes? Who else would I be writing to?”

“You’ve been writing to Prince Noctis?”

“Ravus, why are you so distressed by this? I told you when we were younger that we started a notebook – “

 _That_ was what that damned notebook was for!

_Fire, smoke clogging his lungs and making his eyes water_

“I’d assumed it was a fleeting fancy when you were children, not something you’d upkeep after he abandoned us.”

“He was a child then, Ravus,” Lunafreya said. She’d realized this was the wrong topic to bring up too late. “And King Regis regrets not –“

“If the king ever had an ounce of regret,” Ravus said dryly, “He would not have left us and mother to die.”

“You know in your heart that’s not true, Ravus,” Lunafreya said. “Protecting the chosen king means protecting us as well, and King Regis never meant for mother to d – “

“’ _The chosen king’_ ,” Ravus mocked. “A gangly teenage boy, destined to fix the world? Does he know of what you sacrifice, _daily,_ so that people may be healed? What has Noctis done, what has he sacrificed, to be a chosen _savior_ that you yourself have not?”

“I’m not dying, Ravus,” Lunafreya said, raising her voice. “And Noctis’s destiny lies beyond him right now, for to fulfill it he would have to –“

“The scourge rots healers from the inside out, Lunafreya,” Ravus snapped back. “As Noctis dithers away his daily life, you actively bring harm into your body so that others have a chance at life, one that he – that he clearly squirrels away by having – “

“What are you even talking about? Noctis doesn’t – “

“I’m done speaking,” Ravus said. She opened her mouth to object, and he raised a hand. “No, I won’t hear it.”

He stood up and made for the door. Lunafreya’s glare broke into his back, and Pryna stared after him as well. On that note, he turned around one more time.

“I know you sent that messenger-dog off to deliver the notebook. I can’t stop divine messengers from sending cutesy notes back and forth, but know that you will regret speaking to him. And I cannot help you when you do.”

“Ravus -!”

He shut the door firmly behind him. Remembering that the dog already left to deliver the notebook, he clicked the lock shut as he walked away.

Fifth rotation would be by to unlock her within the hour, anyway.

 

 

 

The war progressed in the background as life passed by for the next year nearly idyllically in Tenebrae. Since their spat, Ravus only spoke to Lunafreya whenever strictly necessary, and only for a few minutes at a time. He still saw the dog carrying the notebook back and forth; he wanted to be pleased she was speaking to someone as herself and not the oracle, but he only wished she could have chosen someone less…Lucis Caelum.

Ravus busied himself with guard rotations, correspondences with generals, and with his own patrols across the grounds. The chancellor had begun occasionally sending him memos as well now – mostly requests for copies of the reports of MT damages and repairs done, as well as technical information that Ravus couldn’t process. As these were only guard MTs and not designed for battle, they mostly handled their own maintenance and technical matters – he only knew enough to reset them if they ever shut down.

The chancellor’s letters were more casual than the others; the first half of the memo would be the usual request for maintenance reports, but perhaps a “and give Lady Lunafreya my best :- )” at the end.

He usually got to those last.

He would sometimes pass by Gentiana on his patrol routes through the grounds; she would wave at him in here serene way, and he would walk right past the messenger with only small acknowledgements. Divine beings of the gods or not, he had a job to do. No longer the misguided prince, the cast-out of the oracle’s bloodline, but at last a role that he could easily fill himself into; structured and orderly, the daily cycle of guards and letters and the steady routine Niflheim had placed him in.

He would fill himself entirely into this routine, if it weren’t for that one afternoon.

It was a standard cycle of people in and out of Lunafreya’s rooms, a stricter schedule in place then would be typical; the oracle had just arrived home from another tour, and needed adequate time to recover. Despite this, Lunafreya allowed a flow of people, however limited, to come see her as needed. Always devoted to her people, she would not pass on them to let herself rest for even a day. It was at Ravus’s insistence that she limit the intake of visitors at all.

He was busy in his office, finalizing the last correspondence to General Glauca before his shift through the grounds, when one of the oracle’s attendants came rushing past his open door.

“Lord Ravus, Lady Lunafreya has requested you at once!”

They rushed back to her side, and Ravus paused. Setting down his pen, he walked out to the hallway; a number of attendants were hurrying down from the direction of Lunafreya’s quarters. He broke off down the hall in a near sprint, nearly knocking people down in his rush.

The MTs were gathered near her door, but he barked at them quickly, “Move! Back to your normal positions,” before throwing open the door to her sitting room.

A female attendant and Maria stood by the sette, and Lunafreya was lying still across it; her face ashen, the attendant pressed a damp washcloth to her forehead.

“What happened?” Ravus asked. The pair of women winced at his shout, and he frowned. “What happened,” he repeated, quieter and out of his captain voice.

“I’m fine, Ravus,” Lunafreya said softly. Ravus knelt down on the floor beside her; he was wearing his lighter armor, and it clanked against the tiles. “I only fainted. Don’t worry yourselves so…”

“Lunafreya, if it’s hurting you, you must tell us,” Ravus said, grasping her hand in his own. She met his armored appearance in particular with a regular scowl, but this time she curled her fingers tighter around the cold metal.

“It was only a fainting spell,” she repeated. Ravus looked up at Maria and the attendant, both staring down at the siblings. He wordlessly pleaded for a truer answer; both shook their heads.

“There’s nothing more for it, sir,” the attendant said. “She’ll be all right within an hour or so. It’s normal to feel a bit weak after a healing spell.”

“Normal? How long has this been happening?” Ravus said. “Lunafreya? Should I have known -?”

“Only the once, Ravus,” Maria said. Lunafreya closed her eyes. “She’s been all right, truly.”

“I would have told you before,” His sister said, still gripping his hand, “if you would have asked.”

“Lady Lunafreya,” The attendant began, “ _is_ this not the first time?”

“It…it happens sometimes,” Lunafreya began, “but I usually just…sit and it passes…”

“Call off her next appointments for the afternoon,” Ravus said. He brushed the loose hairs off her forehead, flipping over the washcloth. “Tell them she’s feeling under the weather. They’ll understand.”

Lunafreya stirred. “No, Ravus, I…it’s only one more person and they – “

“They understand, Lunafreya,” he said. “Truly, they do.”

They do – he saw it on their faces as they entered and exited the manor and its grounds. The admiration in their faces for his sister…it was unlike anything he’d seen even from his own mother before her.

The attendant nodded and left, leaving only the siblings’ oldest caretaker at their side.

“Lady Lunafreya,” Maria said, “I’ve left blankets on the other chair if you need them, shall I go and - ?”

“It’s okay, Maria,” Lunafreya whispered. She sounded tired. “You can let Ravus alone to do it.”

The woman seemed very reluctant to do that, eyeing Ravus’s formal armed wear. “Shall I inform the guards that you’ll be staying in?”

“Let me,” He said. “They may not respond to you.”

Ravus squeezed Lunafreya’s hand tighter.

“I’ll be back in a moment, Lunafreya. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll be okay,” she assured him.

When he returned from addressing his magitek, he made a point of stopping back at his quarters to remove his outer metal armor, leaving only his white coat left of the full ensemble. When he returned, she seemed relieved to see it.

He remained in her room at her side for the rest of the afternoon, even after she fell asleep. Though her dress was still its clean white, he couldn’t shake the memory of dark bloodstains whenever he closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> so....this sure did get away from me really fast.  
> i hope everyone likes ravus, because alternate titles for this include "Ravus Nox Fleuret: The Life and Times" and "in which local man tries really hard to seek vengeance and protect luna, fails miserably at both."
> 
> (final chapter count is a guesstimate, though definitely won't exceed about four chapters. part 1 is likely to be the longest of the bunch.)


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